Just Desserts
by Solitaire42
Summary: At the New Year's Eve NYPD costume ball, an unsuspecting jerk of an officer talks badly about Adam to the wrong Detectives. Luckily, they seem to find just the right way to get him to shut up AND leave them all alone. No Spoilers. Warm and fuzzy ending.


**Just Desserts**  
by Solitaire42

**A/N:** I thought of this during work, and just had to write it. I love almost anything to do with Adam Ross, Danny Messer and/or Don Flack, and when this popped into my brain, well- I just couldn't resist! This actually takes place completely after my unfinished story The Things We'll Do, but there aren't any spoilers besides either 'No One Dies' or 'Someone Dies but Aliens Bring Them Back to Life'. The latter of which, as luck would have it, happened at least three times to one of my favorite characters on one of my favorite shows, so... just, don't discount it immediately. ; )

**Disclaimer:** I don't know anyone or own anything relating to this franchise. Please don't sue me. ^_^

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"And, let me tell you, the way he stuttered," the man laughed and took a swig of his scotch on the rocks. "It was pathetic." He ran a hand through his hair, and it took all Danny had not to wrinkle his nose in disgust at the man's drivel. "The only reason any women talk to him is because they feel sorry for him, right Flack?" Danny turned his head to his freind (who had also been cornered by this bottomfeeder).

Don gave him a pained smile, one that Danny interpreted as either "You make me want to hurl" or "I have a terrible toothache". The other man - a leiutenant, Danny thought - didn't seem to notice that it wasn't that sincere.

"Anyway, I guess some of those CSI nerds are alright," here the weirdo winked at Don, for some reason, "but that guy. It's like.. he needs to be put down, like you do to the runt of a litter of dogs, or cats."

In some ways Danny could almost understand the comparison of Adam to a kitten or a puppy - he was a sweetheart, and there was something about him that made you want to protect him, not to mention the way his hair could fluff in directions Danny didn't even know existed. But Danny couldn't picture a decent human being hurting fully grown adult _Adam_, much less a small animal. He took half a step back, felt his thigh hit the refreshment table, and sighed. Long night.

Flack looked as disgusted as the older CSI felt, his hands moving down to adjust the bottom of his Star Trek shirt. From the expression on his face, murder might be in order before the party ended at two; it was only 11:19. Less than an hour from midnight and Adam still hadn't shown yet. Danny was beginning to think either something had happened to him or he was running late... he said a quick prayer that it was the latter (and more likely) of the two.

Meanwhile, Lt. Air-for-Brains continued smiling his too-white smile and talking. "He couldn't even get a date with that slut Kendall." Danny frowned, and saw the same look on Don's face. "You know, she was all over me, I had to turn her down nicely." He adjusted his cravat, tucking it into his ridiculous smoking jacket, and took another long sip of his drink. "It was so hard, to break her little heart. But," he licked his lips deviously, "when you can have any wine you want, why settle for the cheapest one, right?" He gave the both of them a wink, like it was a fantastic inside joke.

"Uh-" Danny started, having to say _something_. To get away. But what would it be? Heart attack? No, no. He might try to do mouth-to-mouth.

Aneurysm? Nah, same problem.

He could always kick Don in the knee and say he had to take him to the emergency room.. But, no, he could never do that to Don, and it didn't really sound like something very becoming of Robin Hood himself.

"Yeah?" Lt. Whatever prompted after a moment. "_What_ department are you from, again?" He asked, like he couldn't _quite_ remember.

Danny opened his mouth to respond but was quickly cut off.

"Oh, you- I've seen you in Narco, right?" Danny gave him a stare. "What's your name again?"

"Messer," Danny stated, fingering the old school shortbow he had strapped to his back. If only he knew how to use it.

"Oh, right, Lester. I knew I knew you."

Danny started to correct him, but decided maybe he really didn't want this jerk knowing his real name anyway.

"Yeah. Yeah, right. I-, uh. We have to-" Don cut him off with a jab in the side and a nod in the direction of the bar. A slow grin spread over Danny's face, matching the one on his younger friend's, and he directed his attention back to the jerk, who was staring at himself in - of all things - a pocket mirror. "We," Danny started again, "have to challenge you to a bet, my friend."

The man looked up, surpise and overconfidence shining in his eyes. "Yeah?" He grinned. "What kind of bet?"

"We pick a girl," Don smirked, "and you have to get her number."

"Before the end of the party," Danny added mischieviously.

The disgusting man grinned back. "I'll go you one better - I'll bed her. Before the end of the party."

Danny and Don both _eew_ed internally, but did their damnedest not to let it show.

"You're on," Danny shook his hand.

"What do I get if I win?"

Don shrugged. "What do you want?"

"Bonasera's number," the man quipped vilely, looking over both Detectives' shoulders. They turned, seeing Stella sitting with Mac (Audrey Hepburn and Frank Sinatra, respectively), and knew that, even though they had no choice if he won, there was no chance in hell of that happening.

"Deal."

"What do you get?"

"You don't get _any_ numbers," Don sneered, "'till March."

The man looked taken aback for a moment, but gathered himself at record speed. "No need to worry about that; so why not?" He shook hands with Don, and stood next to them, facing the door like they were. "So," he asked after about a minute. "Where's my mark?"

Danny and Don wanted to make him wait just a little bit longer. They turned their heads this way and that, pretending to still be considering.

"Oh, how about Catwoman?" the Leiutenant leered as a Sgt. passed in a full-body Lycra suit. "Definitely Chardonnay."

Don rolled his eyes, but Danny just scoffed, "We're picking, here." And they both grinned when they turned toward the bar to see the same girl there, holding a sweet drink (that they _knew_ for a fact was non-alcoholic) and stirring it with her little pink umbrella.

"Her," they said in unison, pointing to the girl draped in white cloth. The man next to them took in her dark blonde hair, the golden fastenings on her Greek dress, the pink lips, the pale skin.

His lips pulled back till it almost looked like a smile instead of a sneer at a challenge. "Definitely champagne," he half-growled. "She's got to be ten years younger than me," he began. _Try fifteen_, Danny thought to himself. "I'll have her bent to my will in no time," he said, and set off for the bar.

Danny and Don clinked their glasses together.

"Nice job, Robin," Flack smiled, taking a long draught of his beer.

"Not to bad yourself, Number One," Messer grinned back.

They both watched the man lean over the younger girl to 'get to the bar', even though there was no one really near her. Her green eyes shot up to meet his.

"Can I help you?" She asked, frowning warily and adjusting the laurel wreath on her hair nervously.

"Mmm," he nodded, holding out his hand. "I'm a Lt. with the NYPD.. but tonight you can just call me," here he straightened and put his hands in his pockets in what he must have thought was a smooth manner, "Casanova." The look on the girl's face made it obvious that she wanted to point out how much she doubted Casanova wore paisley neckercheifs or velveteen smoking jackets. But, she held her tongue. "And who," the slimeball went on, "might you be?"

"Ariadne," she responded, swiveling on her stool so she was completely facing the counter.

"Ah," the man nodded. Danny and Don held their sides as they stifled their laughter; an infant could tell that the man was completely lost. "How about," he leaned closer to her, talking in what he probably felt was a libidinous tone. "How about you and I get out of here, have some fun."

The girl scrunched up her face and frowned. "Um, no thanks. I'm waiting for my date."

He moved even closer. "I don't see him here." She moved away and the man frowned, apparently frustrated. "What has your date got that I haven't?"

"Uh," she faced him, almost indignant, and rolled a spool of thread between her hands. "My boyfriend has _loads_ more than you. Including, but not limited to, great hair, a fantastic smile, an IQ in the triple digits and a Wii." She let herself smile, now only thinking of her date- and not the pig in front of her. "Not to mention he's sweet, and kind, and caring. And warm. And more man than you will ever be." The Leiutenant moved closer, and Danny and Don were thinking that maybe they should have made sure the guy wasn't violent before they sent him over to the unsuspecting female. They started toward them, but "Ariadne"'s face breaking into a smile stopped them.

"And," she continued, getting up and slipping around the angry man almost gingerly, "he's got the most incredible sense of timing out of anyone I have _ever_ met."

Danny and Don were as overjoyed at the look of rage on the other man's face as he was _pissed off _over the reason he was turned down.

The chiton-clad newcomer reached down and lifted his girlfriend into his arms, spinning her around once and kissing her chastely on the cheek as he set her back down.

"Sorry about that," he spoke breathlessly, "I got held up with a case."

"I wasn't worried," she smiled back. The Leiutenant was still standing a pace behind them, where she had left him stunned. "I was just talking to.. Casanova, I guess." The look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know, right up to 'He's an officer so I tried not to really make him mad but he's just so _creepy_', and he held out his hand.

"Adam Ross, CSI." The two detectives by the refreshments could hardly _breathe_ from laughter as the man shreiked and stormed away, leaving a very confused Adam in his wake.

A few seconds lapsed, where Don swiftly set his drink on the table behind them and Danny started _snorting _before Adam and his date, both chuckling over the absurdity of it all, made their way to the older Detectives - who were only just beginning to recover from the lack of air.

"Please tell me there was a reason for that," was all he asked, and that simple phrase launched them into another fit. Stella and Mac appeared, slightly concerned.

"Is everything alright?" Mac asked, startled by how red the laughing men looked. They both waved their hands and caught their breath.

"Fine," Danny gasped.

"Having a good time?" Stella asked, smiling, once it looked like they weren't going to die from lack of oxygen.

"Best. Party. Ever," Don answered earnestly as Jessica Angell (or, as costumes went, Deanna Troi) came up beside him to take his hand.

"The ball is about to drop," Mac hinted, motioning toward the Plasma screen in the corner of the rented ballroom, and the half empty table there. They all moved together to sit with Lindsay (dressed as Maid Marian), Hawkes and his date (as zombies, oddly enough), and Sid with his wife (both of whom were uber-hippies).

And when the clock hit midnight, man; Danny _knew_ that it would be a great year.


End file.
